


Yellow Union

by Aiko_Vanilla



Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Break the Cutie, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eroguro, Guro, I won't allow it, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, The baby dies, Torture, Torture Porn, Wound Fucking, first intern fic on AO3? i don't know, you cant have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aiko_Vanilla/pseuds/Aiko_Vanilla
Summary: The Intern's enthusiasm has a blunt cure.
Relationships: The Intern (DOOM)/Demons
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> tw : rape, explicit gore and violence
> 
> avoid if you can.
> 
> chapter 2 is a fix-it chapter if you read this one and you feel down.

An incumbent flicker dissolved the feathery blue portal in its tracks, the remaining particles left astray in the air and dancing on their own. With that, the Doom Slayer was far gone into the Holt and the hunt had begun.

The Intern drew himself to the parallel panel his coworkers left behind, a paramount haste at the mere sight of the orbs, a meditation on the horizon that was the brink of humanity.

Fingers swiping on the screen below, he began :

"Hayden's files were extensive, and the ARC recorded all of it - the Dark Lord can't be killed until he takes physical form..."

Inquisitive, he perked his head up, leering through the thin glass lined by his thick frames.

"They're going to have to accept you because anyone who earned the right to acquire a life sphere in the swamp are free to pass through into the Luminarium and insert which ever sphere they have. Effectively, you could awake anyone in there, and they'll actually have to help you do it!"

A ghost of a smile formed, composed of the quirked up corners of his lips, reminding himself of the stakes at play. Only the Slayer's mellow breaths responded. The Intern schooled his expression, ironing out the wrinkles deep in his lower lids which came from his expressed joy.

The overwhelming, growing sounds from the Slayer's grunts and the strikes of a sharp, metallic shotgun flooded from the other side of the transmission, making the mute button a necessity rather than a peace of mind for the Slayer.

* * *

  
Quick strikes of the stylus against the shaved, reflective surface filled the room, each tap resounding in The Intern's boredom an echo stuck inside his head. An uncalculated twirl from between his fingers and the stylus tumbled out of his half-hearted grasp, falling onto the floor with a small bounce.

"Darn," Intern huffed, heating up from the brewing, sudden frustration. Securing the swivel office chair by rooted feet, the Intern descended on the pen, picking it up gently between his fingers and then fixing his posture with a light crack.

A striking, abrupt alarm chimed through the Carrier, followed by the flaming of a bold, red portal. Forcing himself up, The Intern approached the staircase, a hand flying to the railing and squeezing the frictionless, once-sterile metal, contaminated and faded with his fingerprints. 

It couldn't be.

He's heard many great things about the Slayer.

Uncompromising.

Relentless.

A God.

However, there was some doubt that he could exterminate a corrupted Urdak so soon.

"Doom Slayer, sir?"

...

"Doomgu-"

An imp shot out of the portal, hooking around the Intern's torso and bringing the man down onto his back. The Intern cried out as the back of his head met with the stairway forcefully, the sudden pressure of being brought down causing his grip on the railing to loosen with only fingernail marks marking the cylindrical figure.

His eyelids fluttered open, cemented in their widened position as he craned his neck to check the portal, still an empowered, raging inferno, bringing demons into the Carrier, flying around and huddling into the corners, a deepest infestation.

The Intern's head flew back rapidly at the Imp, rubbing down clumsily on his sides before it drew its claws, caught in the fabric of his uniform, which came out and ripped with ease - a blunt tearing polluting his ears. The sides of his flesh separated, steaming from the razor edge hot claws of the Imp, running down onto the floor, saved only by the fabric still on his back. The Intern bit onto his tongue, the familiar crimson liquid heavy and metallic on his tongue and in his breath pooling in his mouth, throwing his head back with unshed tears a sheen on the orbs.

Frankly, he was afraid to swallow.

If it weren't for the small red pearls seeping from the parted area where skin met muscle, The Intern would have entertained the possibility that the heat an almost flame blue would have cauterized the wound.

Instead of drawing out, the Imp pressed deeper, until the squelch of pulsing muscle around bony claws hit the pelvic bones. The Intern gasped, mixed with such a sob that the blood he swallowed entered his airways, causing him to sputter and gasp.

Another pair of clawed hands drew his head back, the claws becoming soaked with impure saliva and tips digging into the gums, into the raised bumps where the roots of the well-cared for teeth stayed burrowed, forcing the Intern's mouth wide and stuffing an atrocious, erect organ into the Intern's throat. The sharp, spine-like rows decorating the shaft unfurled, digging into the Intern's inner cheeks to hollow them out further, irritating the smooth muscle impulsively in his throat.

The pain shooting up from his teeth finally broke the air-water barrier, and tears began to finally rain down onto the Intern's collar as this...lowly demon defiled his throat, the spines hooking into the musculature and making it difficult to take in air.

What a vital part of life.

The Imp quickened its pace, finally leaving inflamed tears in the Intern's mouth and throat, its throat bumpy as it screeched in the air, claws forcing itself down and disconnecting the teeth from its roots.

Deep sobs shook through the Intern's ribcage, cuts from the first Imp to catch him paradoxically making the air itching the wounds more difficult to come by.

The Imp drew out, tilting the Intern's head farther until the back was practically straining against the floor and his throat exposed submissively, his adam's apple bobbing and rising and falling with every breath, cry, and reluctant swallow.

The glasses were knocked off, the delicate frames shattering on impact with the heavy floor. As the Imp pried the Intern's eyelids open to expose more of the eye, his pupils widened.

"No...Not this, A-ANYTHING BUT THIS...!"

As the Intern's eye began to strain against the open air forced upon it, drying it out, the Imp began to pull, meeting much resistance. A salt-iron liquid ran down the Intern's forehead and dripped onto the Imp's thigh to evaporate into the air. The Imp finally let loose and drew the eye out, exposing the naked socket.

The Intern's face began to pale, breathing becoming shallow. Caught in his throat when the recently satisfied organ filled the empty void a working orb once did.

The lonely eye rolled to the back of the Intern's skull, faded black tunneling the corners of his blurry vision. The Intern throbbed and screamed, drawing attention to him and the two imps, the other demons gathering around to watch either in a circle or from the shadows of the disregarded Carrier, the lights blinking overhead.

"N-N-No...N-No...N-No-"

Flesh began to be torn from his relaxed jugular, exposing thrumming veins and muscles as more fabric began to tear at the bottom as well, claws cutting into his southern veins, flaccid and unappealing.

A gargoyle flew next to the Intern, smashing into his shoulder with its metal mandibles and blades digging into his wrist, turning it until it ached and until it eventually snapped, the effect immediate and drunken.

The Gargoyle began to pull on the arm at the flexible wrist, an attempt to separate the bone from the shoulder socket to the sound of the Intern's bawling, stomping on his thigh and the claws from the toenails puncturing wounds into it. If the thing were to succeed, the stump of exposed bone, the rings of muscle wrapped around it, and a potent, but thin layer of yellow fat would have met the world, the marrow with a palpitation as vague as the pungent, rotting smell lingering in the air around the Intern's nose.

A Mecha Zombie strides to call, beginning to stomp on the Intern's lower whilst smashing its wrist-mounted cannon into his ankle, wet pops and resounding cracks came from the action, the occasional kick bringing the limb to attention, bending in ways that the Intern discovered in a daze. Bones none but fragments now.

Hot liquid scalded his socket when the Imp finally ejaculated, and the Intern finally felt himself becoming numb at last.

At painful rest.

Small crunches came from the Gargoyle's chewing, fibers of keratin fresh from the broken arm scattering on the floor and onto the Intern's torn chest.

The Mecha Zombie wandered over him, forcing its cannon down onto his sternum. Each smash causing the ribs to break apart, the jagged edges puncturing weak lungs, causing The Intern to whistle, words caught in his throat. Clockwork at play.

Once the Imp at the top of his head wrapped his clawed hands around the Intern's neck and began to turn, he knew it would end.

The Doom Slayer would be coming back to a fate he sealed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> necessity is the mother of creation


	2. +fix it

  
"Wake up,"

Light flooded his senses with the rough shaking of his shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

The Intern fixed his glasses between his fingers, repressing his trembling upper lip as he sniffed and nodded.

The Supervisor gently patted his shoulder.

"Back to work, Intern."

**Author's Note:**

> what if it was all just a dream?
> 
> me : can i copy your homework
> 
> bones : just change it up so it's not obvious you copied
> 
> me : yellow union


End file.
